


Thy Fearful Symmetry

by clgfanfic



Category: War of the Worlds (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-21
Updated: 2013-02-21
Packaged: 2017-12-03 03:53:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/693806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clgfanfic/pseuds/clgfanfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A trip to a carnival turns deadly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thy Fearful Symmetry

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the zine Green Floating Weirdness #14 under the pen name Laura Cathcart.

_"Debi, I have to get Debi and Suzanne back to the base, man.  They're sittin' ducks out here."_

 

_Tiger, Tiger, burning bright_

_In the forests of the night._

_What immortal hand or eye_

_Could frame thy fearful symmetry?_

 

          "There it is!" Debi squealed as she pointed.

          Ironhorse fought back a grin and nodded.  "Yep, that's it all right.  Looks kinda… slipshod, don't you think?"

          "It looks okay to me."

 _It would_ , he thought.  _Excitement hides a multitude of safety violations._

          He took the next exit off the highway and turned right, heading back down the rural access road until they reached the large, empty field that now doubled as a make-shift parking lot.  Across the road a traveling carnival sprawled across another empty field with rides, midway, food booths, and a line of port-O-pots.  The agglomeration was ringed with an old chain link fence, propped up here and there by wood poles.

          Debi had spotted the traveling fair when she and Suzanne had driven back from a two-day trip into the city for shopping and 'quality time.'  After begging her mother to take her non-stop all the way home, the colonel had been drafted to solve the problem.

          Suzanne had wanted to take the girl, but she was in the middle of a series of experiments to test what effect various viruses had on alien tissue.  The slides she'd prepared required forty-eight undisturbed hours in stain, which Suzanne spent in San Francisco with Debi, but now that time was up and she had to return to her work.  That left the carnival to the colonel.

          He'd tried to divert Debi's attention, suggesting sailing and horseback riding, but it was a doomed venture.  Debi wanted to ride the rides and nothing short of a tank was going to stop her.

          "Thank you," Suzanne said, the sympathy in her voice failing to bolster his confidence in surviving the planned adventure.  "Sometimes my little angel can be a royal pain in the ass."

          "Tell me about it," he'd muttered on his way out of the bio-lab.

          And here they were…

          He parked and climbed out of the Bronco, then followed Debi across the access road and to the carnival entrance, an open section in the fence with a tiny booth.

          He checked the faded prices on the chalkboard that hung from the top of the booth, then fished out his wallet and handed over a twenty.  The old man behind the tiny chicken-wire window grinned and handed back three dollars.  "Have yourselves a good time," he said, adding, "Give me your hand."

          Debi stuck out her hand and the old man stamped the back, leaving behind a grinning black clown-face.

          "Sir."

          With an inaudible sigh Paul extended his hand and let it be stamped as well, hoping that the ink would wash off easily.

          "Come on, Colonel," Debi said, grabbing his arm and dragging him into the sparse crowd.  She stopped several yards past the gate, looking around.  "I want to go on _all_ the rides!"

          "All of them?" Paul asked, watching one that looked like it had been the brainchild of de Sade.

          " _All_ of them," she stated with finality.  "You promised."

          "I guess I did," he said, adding silently, _Grandfather, I'm a Special Forces officer.  Please don't let me turn green in front of a twelve-year-old._

          Debi smiled up at him.  "Thank you for bringing me, Colonel."

          He smiled back.  "No problem," he lied smoothly, then took a deep breath and asked, "So, where do we start?"

          "The carousel," Debi announced, starting off at a trot.

          "The carousel?" Paul echoed, his gaze sliding skyward.  _Grandfather, please don't let anyone I know see this…_  "Carousel?  I thought you said _rides_."

          "I always start on the carousel," she called back.  "Come on!"

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

_In what distant deeps or skies,_

_Burnt the fire of thy eyes?_

_On what wings dare he aspire?_

_What the hand dare seize the fire?_

 

          After nearly two hours of riding machines that went up and down, back and forth, round and round, or all of the above, Ironhorse was more than ready to take a break – a _long_ break.  He walked away from the Astro Whirl convinced that all Special Forces operatives should be forced to endure a day at an amusement park as part of their final evaluation…  And God help them.

          "I guess all that's left is the Ferris Wheel," Debi said, the disappointment clear in her voice.

          He eyed the Ferris Wheel suspiciously.  Besides the carousel, every other damned ride scattered across the field had originally been developed for the Inquisition and he found it hard to believe the big, slowly spinning wheel could be any different.  It must do something besides just gently going around, and around, and around in a slow circle.

          "Amazing," he muttered.

          "What?" Debi asked, her enthusiasm untarnished after one-hundred and eleven minutes of almost continuous torture.

          "It looks… tame."

          She nodded, making a face.  "I know, but it's the only one we haven't been on, and I want to ride _all_ the rides."

          "Yes, I know," he said.  "And this one is the last."  _Thank you, Grandfather._

          They stood in line for a few minutes, Debi glancing back regularly to watch three boys from her junior high school who stood behind them.  Paul had noticed them shadowing Debi, watching her, making faces, occasional comments, and generally being a nuisance.  _Pubescent boys are pests_ , he thought.  _And I should know, I work with two of them._

          He grinned when she sighed and rolled her eyes at them.  They rotated their hips and mimed being girls.  Debi looked away, shaking her head.

          "You know those guys?" Paul asked.

          "Yes," she sighed.  "They're in my classes at school.  They're stupid."

          "Ah," he said, watching the kids from the corner of his eye.  _Typical_ , he thought, trying to decide which one of them had the crush on Debi.

          The wheel turned slightly and they climbed into a seat and pulled the safety-bar down across their laps as the seat lifted just far enough to pick up the next riders.  Very quickly they were at the top of the circle, then dropped backward to the bottom again as the wheel was finally filled.  Once that was accomplished, the ride turned smooth, circling at a leisurely pace that gave them plenty of time to admire the countryside and the rest of the carnival.

          "Can we go see the midway next?" Debi asked, studying the array of stuffed animals being offered as prizes.

          "Yes," Paul agreed quickly.  "Sounds like a great idea."

          "Colonel?"

          He looked down at the girl.  "Yes?"

          "I really am glad you brought me," she said, sparking a warm feeling in his chest.  "Mom won't go on any of the _real_ rides with me – except the carousel and the Ferris Wheel."

          The warm feeling evaporated.  "She won't, huh?" he half-growled.  "Why am I not surprised?"

          "She says it makes her sick."

          The ride came to an end a couple of minutes later and they stepped out of the seat, a teen couple taking their place.  Debi led the way to the midway, prowling past the booths until she spotted a huge stuffed raccoon.  She pointed.  "Can you win me that?"

          The colonel walked up to the booth and studied the layout – a basketball and a metal basket, with an angled backboard.  If the ball didn't fall straight down through the hoop it would bounce off the back or the rim and no toy.

          He picked up one of the basketballs.  It felt slightly strange.  "Mind if I take a practice shot?" he asked the carny who lounged against the booth.

          The young man shrugged and yawned.  "Go ahead, but you gotta pay for the ones that count."

          Ironhorse nodded, sending the ball in a free throw arc that wobbled at the last moment and bounced off the rim.

          "Ahhhh," Debi grouched.

          Paul smiled slightly and handed over two dollars for three balls.  They'd weighted the basketballs somehow, he'd have to compensate…

          He tossed the first ball.  It arced gracefully and passed through the metal rim without touching.

          "Yeah!" Debi called, clapping.

          The second ball wobbled slightly, hitting the rim and bouncing on it like a trapped pin-ball, but dropped through.  The colonel let out the breath he was holding in a relieved sigh.

          "Yes!" Debi said, whooping.

          His ego stroked, Paul hefted the last ball, his eyes rounding slightly.  He tossed the ball up and caught it.  It was normal.  _Trying to catch me off guard?_ he silently asked the booth attendant.  _Well, nice try, asshole, but…_

          He flicked the ball off his fingertips.  It sailed up and fell through the rim without a whisper.

          "You did it!" Debi squealed.  "You did it!"

          The young man at the booth grinned.  "Nice," he admitted.  "Which one d'ya want?"

          "That one!" Debi said, pointing at the big raccoon.

          The boy took the four foot critter down and handed it to Debi.  The toy was almost as tall as she was and she wrapped both arms around it to keep it off the ground.

          "Getting hungry?" Paul asked, putting a hand on her back to guide her down the midway.  "We could take a lunch break."

          "Yeah, I guess so.  But can we do some more games afterwards?"

          "Tell you what," the colonel said, "why don't I take your friend here out to the Bronco and you go order some chow.  After we eat we can check out the rest of the midway."

          "Okay," she agreed.  "What do you want?"

          "Cheeseburger, fries, and an orange soda."

          "You drink orange soda?"

          Paul grinned.  "I haven't in a long time, but— You think you can keep my secret?"

          She nodded as he dug out his wallet and took out another twenty.  He traded, giving her the money and taking the raccoon.  "I'll be right back," he told her.

          "Meet me at the food shack by the carousel, okay?"

          "Fine," he said, heading off, the critter tucked under his arm.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Standing in line Debi jerked and ducked away when someone tugged her blond ponytail.  She turned, expecting the colonel and finding the three boys instead.  She clicked her tongue at them and frowned.  "Stop it."

          The dark-haired boy looked around.  "Where's your dad?"

          "He's _not_ my dad," Debi replied.  "He's the colonel."

          "Oooh," one of the boys said, shoving too long blond hair out of his eyes and shrugging thin shoulders under his black leather jacket.  "I'm sooo scared."

          "Colonel of what?" the dark-haired boy asked, grinning and looking at his friends.

          "An _army_ colonel," she said, adding, "Stupid."

          "Stupid," the last, blue-haired boy said, shoving his dark-haired companion.  "Shut-up, Stupid."

          "Shut-up, Robby," the boy replied.

          "Who is he?" the blond asked.  "Rambo?"

          "No," Debi said, stepping closer to the window.  "His name's Ironhorse.  Colonel Ironhorse."

          "Ironass?" the dark-haired boy asked.

          Debi leveled the boys with a murderous glare.

          "Knock it off, Stevie," the blond snapped.

          "He's an Indian," Debi said, her eyes narrowing.  "You're an asshole."

          Stevie rolled his eyes and shook his head, but he kept his mouth shut.

          Debi stepped up to the window.  "Two cheeseburgers, two orders of fries, and two orange sodas," she said.

          The woman pressed the prices into an old fashioned cash register.  "That'll be fourteen dollars.  Your name?"

          "Debi," she replied, handing the woman the twenty and sticking her hand out for the six dollars in change.  Pocketing the bills, she moved to the end of the line at the pick-up window.

          "How come you don't hang out at school more?" the blond asked, moving with her.

          "Yeah," Robby said, picking at the ends of his blue hair.  "Matt's got a crush on you."

          The blond blushed and shot his two friends a nasty look.

          Debi ignored them.  "None of your business.  Maybe I don't wanna hang out with losers like you."

          "Debi!" another woman hollered.

          She stepped up to the window and a tray was slid out with the order.  She grabbed the tray as Stevie reached for it and carried it over to one of the picnic benches.  Sitting down, she watched Robby snatch one of the French fries.

          "Hey, stop it!" she said, standing up so she could take a swing at the boy if it proved necessary.

          Stevie took advantage of the opening and dropped three sugar cubes into one of the orange drinks.

          "Trouble?"

          The three boys glanced up, finding a stern looking colonel staring back at them.

          "No," Debi said.  "They were just _leaving_."

          The boys drifted away, Robby and Stevie giggling when Matt turned and waved at her.

          "Were they bothering you?" Paul asked, sitting down next to the girl and grabbing a burger, fries, and the sweetened drink.

          "No.  Matt likes me."

          "Matt?"

          "The blond one," she said with a heavy sigh.  "They're idiots, _stupid_ idiots."

          "Even worse," the colonel sympathized, then took a bite of the cheeseburger.  "Mmm, not bad," he announced after a sip of the soda.

          Debi watched the three boys round the far side of the carousel, then attacked her own food.  After all, there were other stuffed toys waiting to be won!

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

_And what shoulder, and what art,_

_Could twist the sinews of thy heart?_

_And when that heart began to beat,_

_What dread hand, and what dread feet?_

 

          They finished, Debi convincing Ironhorse a return to the midway was their best course of action.  "Mom says you have to give the food time to settle."

          "Smart lady, your mother," he agreed, not wanting to face any of the round and round rides on a full stomach.

          He pressed his hand against his mid-section as he trailed after Debi, noting that he didn't feel a hundred percent as it was.  Maybe the rides had taken a toll after all.  He shook it off.  Probably just undercooked meat and they did eat pretty fast.

          Debi bolted away, heading for a ring toss game where the grand prize appeared to be a large teddy bear.

 _A companion for the raccoon_ , he realized, hoping he could pull it off.

          He did.

          Debi squealed with delight and hugged the dark brown bear.  "Thank you, Colonel!  You're the greatest!"

          "You're welcome, but I think we better pass on any more games, I've got a headache that's trying to—"

          "That's okay, I want to ride some of the rides again before we go, okay?"

          He nodded.  Maybe he could just watch this time.  "But I better take Mr. Bear out to the car, first."

          "Okay.  I'll go get in line for the Astro Whirl, okay?"

          "Fine," he said, taking the bear.  "Astro Whirl…?"

          She ran off and he shook his head.  Kids.  Definitely powered by Eveready batteries and equipped with a cast iron stomachs.

          He carried the toy out to the Bronco and sat it in the back seat next to Mr. Raccoon.  He shook his head when the furry faces took on more sinister expressions and slammed the door shut.  Maybe he was getting the flu.

          He started to turn, but reached out, leaning against the Bronco's hood as the parking lot suddenly undulated under his feet.

 _Earthquake?_ he wondered, as the lot began to spin.

_What the hell's going on?_

          He shook his head, then stumbled back toward the entrance, swallowing convulsively to force the sudden nausea away.  He could feel his heart racing, each beat sending a sledgehammer against his temples.  The old man sitting in the ticket booth grunted when Paul passed, lifting his hand to reveal the stamp.

          "Damned Indians," he muttered.  "Nothin' but a bunch o' drunks."

 _Drunk?_ Paul thought.  _What the hell's he talking about?_

          He paused, closing his eyes to let the vertigo settle, then started off toward the Astro Whirl.  Debi waved to him.  She was almost at the head of the line.  If he walked slow she'd be on the ride before he got there and was forced to join her.

          It was a good plan since he was sure his stomach wasn't going to handle hurtling backwards and spinning around and around at the same time…

          A glint of sun off the chain link fence encircling the carnival made him flinch.  He looked, then squinted.

_That's impossible…_

          He took a step closer and stared – just beyond the fence shadowy figures moved, stalking him.  He felt his pulse quicken and he panted.  Dread flooded through his chest, making it hard to breath.

 _Who are they?_   _What's happening?_

          "Colonel!"

          He looked.  Debi was just getting ready to enter the ride.  "Debi!" he called.

          She frowned, but climbed on, her gaze never leaving him.        Something was wrong.  He could feel it, but he didn't know why.  He took a few staggering steps forward, bumping into another man.

          "Hey!" he snapped.  "Watch where you're goin', man."

          "Sorry," Paul slurred, watching as Debi sat down and snapped the seatbelt into place.

          The ride took off and Debi was swept away, caught up in the excitement.  _No!_ he cried silently.  He was supposed to protect her.  He was supposed to make sure nothing happened to her.

 _God I'm thirsty.  Really thirsty_ , he realized.  Glancing around, he spotted one of the water shacks.

          With concentration and effort he took a step forward, then another, and another until his legs were moving without conscious thought.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          When Debi climbed off the Astro Whirl, she spotted the colonel staggering toward a water booth.  A pick-up truck parked near the fence started up, a backfire cracking across the field, and she watched Ironhorse dive for cover.

          He looked up from behind one of the barrels that had been set out on the site for trash, his eyes going wide.  He turned and bolted.

          "Colonel?"

          He didn't turn or pause.

          She hesitated a moment, wondering what was wrong, then turned, running for the entrance.  Reaching the ticket booth she asked the old man, "Where's a phone?"

          "Don't have one."

          She grunted her frustration.  There was a mobile in the Bronco, but that would be locked and she didn't have a key.  She ran back inside, approaching people at random, asking, "Do you have a cell phone?"

          A thirty-something couple finally provided the sought after item.  She punched out the number for the Cottage.

          "Yo," Norton said on the other end.

          "Norton," Debi said.  "Something's wrong with the colonel.  He's acting weird."

          "Weird?"

          "Weird!" Debi said.  "Where's my mom?"

          "On her way," Norton replied, recognizing the fear in the girl's voice.  "She and Harrison are on the way, kiddo."

          "Okay," she said, her voice starting to go.

          "Hang in there."

          "I will."  She pressed 'end' and handed the phone back to the couple.

          "Are you okay?" the pretty red-haired woman asked.

          Debi nodded, then turned and ran back toward the water booth.   "Colonel?" she called as she ran.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

_What the hammer?  What the chain?_

_In what furnace was thy brain?_

_What the anvil?  What dread grasp_

_Dare its deadly terrors clasp?_

 

          Suzanne parked the Taurus, she and Harrison climbing out and heading straight for the entrance.  It was nearing evening, and the crowd was thick.  They stopped long enough to pay, then entered behind a large family.

          Harrison paused.  "Wait," he said, heading back to the ticket booth, Suzanne on his heels.  "Can you page someone?"

          The old man nodded.  "You lose someone?"

          "I need to find my daughter," Suzanne told him.

          "What's her name?"

          "Debi, Debi McCullough."

          The man announced the name over the PA system and a few minutes later they spotted Debi running toward them.  The old man grunted.  "She's the one who's here with that drunk Indian."

          "Drunk?" Suzanne echoed.  "Do you know where he is?"

          The older man shrugged.  "Ain't seen him in a while."

          "Mom!"

          Suzanne turned, catching her daughter in a hug.  She walked Debi off far enough so the man couldn't hear.  "Where's Paul?"

          "I don't know," she said.  "He was acting weird."

          "Describe weird," Harrison instructed.

          "He looked mixed up.  And he was sweating.  He couldn't walk right.  A truck backfired, and he ran away, and I can't find him."  She stopped when she spotted the three boys not far away, looking worried.  She stomped over to them.  "What did you do to him?"

          "Hey, man, we didn't _do_ anything," Stevie said.

          Robby laughed, but it was clear he was nervous.

          Matt shot both of them a hard look.  "Tell her the truth, asshole."

          Suzanne and Harrison stepped up behind Debi.

          "What's up?" Blackwood asked.

          "They know," Debi stated flatly, the anger in her voice a clear threat.

          Matt took a deep breath and said, "Stevie put some Juice, a drug, you know, to get high, in one of your drinks.  The colonel guy must've drunk it."

          "Juice?"  Harrison echoed, looking to Suzanne.  "Then he's having some kind of a trip?"

          She nodded, then looked to Debi.  "Did he… wear his gun?"

          Debi shook his head.

          "How about the big knife?" she asked.

          "I don't think so," Debi said.

          Suzanne looked up at Blackwood.  "At least he probably isn't armed."

          "Look, you boys go look for the colonel.  If you find him, have Debi paged to wherever you find him, understand?"

          The three teens nodded and ran off, Stevie growling something at Matt, who slugged him in the shoulder.

          Debi watched them go, seething.  "I'm gonna—"

          "Help me look for Paul," Suzanne said, placing a hand on her daughter's shoulder and directing her into the crowd.

          "I'll try along the fence," Harrison called after them.

          "We'll check the midway," Suzanne called back over her shoulder, but she wasn't hopeful.  If Paul didn't want them to find him, she doubted they could.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Ironhorse watched Debi frown as she climbed onto the ride, her gaze never leaving him.  Something was wrong.  He didn't know what, but something…

          He reached for his sidearm, but it was gone.  Lost somewhere.  He checked for the Battle Baton.  It was gone, too.

          He'd lost his weapons.

          He trembled and staggered forward several more steps.  Reaching up, he wiped his face on the sleeve of his flannel shirt.  Damn it was hot.  So hot.  The 'Nam was always hot.

          His stomach lurched, but he kept his lunch.  Hot and humid…

          Debi sat down and snapped the seatbelt into place.

 _No!_ he wanted to scream, but it was too late.  The ride was carrying her away.  He'd lost her…

          The VC had her.

          He stood, frozen to the spot, not knowing what to do.

          The driving need for water drove him off and he stumbled to the water booth.  A younger man standing in the shade skittered out as Paul stepped in.  Reaching out, the soldier grabbed a small plastic cup, then bent over, pressing the button on the large plastic container and watching a thin trickle of cold water fill the dixie cup.

          An explosion nearby caused him to drop the cup, the water spilling across one of his black cowboy boots.  Ironhorse dove for cover.

 _Incoming!_   Someone was walking mortars in on him.

          He bolted out of the shack and slid in behind cover.  Then, looking up from behind one of the trash barrels, his eyes went wide.

          The VC were sweeping through the city, looking for him, moving in on him.  They hadn't spotted him yet, but they were there, moving closer, closer…

          He turned and bolted.

          Stopping behind a port-O-pot, he tried to catch his breath, but it was impossible.  His heart still pounded, and he felt weak.  They were getting closer.  Running him to ground…

          He had to find a weapon.  Something he could use to fight with.

          His blurred vision turned the nearby chain link fence into a giant spider's web and he yelped as he shuddered and moved off, watching for the VC.  Rounding the line of small shacks, he found something that frightened him even more.  Aliens…

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          "Mom!" Debi said, grabbing Suzanne's arm.

          "What?"

          Debi pointed to the Ferris Wheel.  "We can look from there.  You can see the whole carnival and the parking lot!"

          "Good idea," Suzanne said with a smile.

          The pair hurried back to the wheel and waited in line until a seat opened for them.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

 

_When the stars threw down their spears,_

_And watered heaven with their tears,_

_Did He smile His work to see?_

_Did He who makes the lamb make thee?_

 

          Ironhorse prowled through the carnival, seeing nothing but the streets of Saigon and shadowy VC lurking in twilight shadows.  Aliens stood near their barrels, waiting to steal bodies from the unwary who passed too close.

          He crouched in the shadows, less afraid of the VC than the aliens.  But he needed a weapon, something to protect himself with.  How had he lost his sidearm, his Battle Baton?

          Using the small buildings and vendors' booths as cover, he went on the prowl, his gaze constantly searching for danger and something he could use as a weapon.  No one seemed to notice him, no one asked about his quest.  It was just as well.  He'd have to kill them if they did.

          He paused, something apprehending his attention.  He blinked, trying to clear his vision.  _Debi…_

_Suzanne?_

_What're they doin' in Saigon?_

          His heart pounded again as he watched the pair climb into the narrow seat of a rickshaw.  His eyes narrowed.  _That driver…_

          He was an alien.  They were in danger.

          Ironhorse bolted from the back of the rickety shack, running to one of the open barrels.  He slid in behind that, oblivious to everything except the two women and the alien leaning over them.

          He was locking them into a cage… a tiger cage… they were in the POW camp with him, aliens about to take over their bodies…

          The alien stepped back, waving…

          Ironhorse looked up, the drugs transforming the Ferris Wheel into a huge chopper dropping closer to the ground.  Debi and Suzanne were being kidnapped!

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Suzanne ignored the lurch as the wheel carried them upward, studying the crowds, looking for any sign of Ironhorse.

          "There he is," Debi said, pointing.

          She was right.  Paul was kneeling behind one of the trash barrels.  "He looks like he's hiding."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Paul rose slightly, trying to see where Suzanne and Debi were being taken, but a slimy three-fingered hand curled up over the edge of the barrel.

          Ironhorse jumped back, his gaze shifting from the barrel to the chopper where Suzanne and Debi hung suspended.

          He had to act, and act now.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Suzanne watched the small boy skip by, thrusting the tattered green bag into the can.  Paul scrambled back, standing.  He looked up, seeing them.

          She waved and called, "Paul!"

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          He bolted with Suzanne's cry.  They were in danger.  He had to get to them now, before it was too late.

          Ironhorse charged the alien who had captured the pair, a single blow sending him flying into the dust.  Paul jumped, grabbing the landing strut of the chopper and rising with Suzanne and Debi.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Harrison heard Suzanne, too, and charged back to the Ferris Wheel in time to see Paul hit the operator and grab an outside support strut only to be carried upward, dangling from the outside frame of the ride.

          The operator scrambled to his feet, yelling, "Hey!  What the hell's wrong with you?!"

          Harrison stopped behind the man.  "Some kids dropped drugs in his drink," the scientist explained.

          The operator turned.  "What?"

          "Kids.  They gave him some kind of drug."

          "Jesus-fucking-Christ," the man breathed.  "We have to get him off there before he gets himself killed."

          "I agree.  Can you stop the wheel?"

          The man nodded, gently pulling back on the break.  The wheel slowed and came to a stop.  Suzanne and Debi were just past the top of the circle, starting back down.  Paul was almost directly opposite them, his feet dangling in the air.  Some people on the wheel yelled at the colonel while others sat in silence, unsure what was going on.

          "Move it so he's closer to the ground," Harrison directed, his gaze never leaving Paul.

          The man pressed levers and pulled handles and the wheel started to rotate in the opposite direction, carrying the colonel closer to the ground.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

_Tiger, Tiger, burning bright_

_In the forests of the night._

_What immortal hand or eye_

_Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?_

 

          Ironhorse inched his way along the strut, moving closer to Suzanne and Debi.  The chopper stopped its upward flight, hovering instead.  Did the pilot know he was there?

          He glanced down, trying to make out what was happening.

 _It must be the aliens_ , he decided.  _They've taken over the VC…_

          He set his grip and looked back up to the pair.  They looked scared.  "Stay there!" he called.  "I'll work my way over to you!"

          "Paul, no!" Suzanne called back.  "We're all right!"

          Maybe they could see the aliens moving in on them better than he could…

          Maybe the aliens were right behind him…

          Maybe they were reaching out with that third arm…

          The wheel rotated backward, carrying him further away from the pair.

          The pilot did know!  He was wagging, trying to dislodge him.

          "Get the hell off!  Are you crazy!" someone screamed.

          "Stay away from me!" Ironhorse snarled as he swung his legs, hooking an ankle over another strut and using that for the leverage he needed to move up, climbing against the rotation of the wheel.

          "Stop," Harrison said and the operator brought the wheel to a stop again.  He studied the ride a moment, then asked, "Can you rotate the seats, but not the wheel?"

          "Sure, but—" the man said.

          Harrison stepped forward and addressed the young couple in the bottom seat. "Excuse me, but could you trade places with me.  It's an emergency."

          The pair scrambled out of the seat and Harrison slid in.  "Okay," he told the operator.  "Send me up level with him."

          "That guy's nuts!"

          "Now!" Blackwood bellowed.

          "Here goes…" the man said.

          Blackwood took several deep breaths as he moved closer to the colonel.  It was clear from the soldier's expression that he was seeing things Blackwood couldn't, unpleasant things, if the curled lip and wide eyes were any hint.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Ironhorse glanced anxiously around at the faces watching him – alien-blended Viet Cong, hanging out of the chopper.  They were looking at him, trying to decide what they were going to do, how they were going to take over his body…

          He couldn't let them take him.  He had to reach Suzanne and Debi.  He had to get them safely back to the base…

_Why are they here?_

          "Paul?" Harrison said as he came along even to the dangling man.

          Ironhorse grunted and jumped, his eyes going wide.  Blackwood.  They were winching up Blackwood!

          Or had they taken him over?

          "It's all right, Colonel," the astrophysicist said.  "It's me, Harrison Blackwood."

          "Get away from me!"

          "Colonel, I don't know what you _think_ you're seeing, but it's not real.  You've been drugged."

          "Stay away from me," Paul growled, climbing up out of reach, but he was trapped.  At the edge of the strut there was nowhere else to go but down.

          Harrison waved at the wheel operator and the man moved him up even with the colonel again.  "Paul, listen to me.  You're perfectly safe.  You came to the carnival with Debi—"

          "Debi!  I have to get Debi and Suzanne back to the base, man.  They're sittin' ducks out here."

          "I know, I know," Harrison replied.  "But so are you."

          "We're surrounded," Paul whispered hotly.  "Can't you see 'em?  Aliens, man.  Fuckin' aliens took over the VC.  They're movin' in on us."

          "Paul, listen to me.  Climb in, we'll follow Debi and Suzanne."

          Ironhorse met his gaze, considering the offer, but from the look on his face, not trusting him enough to take him up on it.  "Please," Harrison added.

          Ironhorse climbed up further until he was at the top of the wheel.  Debi and Suzanne rocked in their seat not too far below.

          Harrison drew even to him at the top, Debi and Suzanne moving closer to the ground.  "See, I can help you get them to the base, Paul.  That's why I'm here.   Let me help you, please."

          Ironhorse paused, pressing hip lips into a thin line, then he nodded.  Whatever it took, he had to be sure Debi and Suzanne were safe.  Besides, his vision was getting worse, his heart was pounding, and his arms shaking.

          "Good," Harrison said.  "Why don't you get in with me so we can catch up to them?"

          The colonel hesitated again, but shifted closer to Blackwood and the basket.  Reaching up, he pressed the palm of his hand against his forehead and groaned.

          "Come on, Paul, climb in."

          Ironhorse inched closer.  "My head…" he slurred, the world around him starting to spin.  He was going to fall.  He was going to fall, and the aliens were waiting for him.  They'd catch him, steal his body…

          "I know, Paul.  I know.  You've been wounded.  We'll have someone look at it back at the…" he sought frantically for the word Paul had used.  "Base.  Back at the base.  Come on, get in."

          Ironhorse moved closer, paused, then lowered himself into the seat.

          Harrison gave the colonel a reassuring smile, silently praying that the soldier didn't kill him where he sat when the basket moved.  "Good, good, now we'll go catch up with Suzanne and Debi," he said, waving at the operator to bring them down.

          The wheel stopped while Debi and Suzanne climbed off.  They waited with the operator until Harrison and Paul's seat swung down and stopped.  Blackwood scooted out, then helped the pale, trembling soldier crawl out of the seat.  His knees hit the wooden platform on the first step.

          "Easy, Paul," Harrison said, helping the man to his feet.

          Ironhorse tried to walk, but his legs shook too hard, forcing him to his knees a second time.  Suzanne and Harrison positioned themselves on either side and helped him to his feet, supporting his weight between them.

          "We've got to get out of here," Harrison said softly.  "Before the police show up."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          In the parking lot Suzanne reached into Ironhorse's front pocket and pulled out the Bronco's keys.  She opened the driver's door, then the backseat, only to find the two large stuffed toys.  "Better put him in the car," she said.

          Harrison half-carried, half-dragged Paul to the dark red car while Suzanne unlocked its doors, then climbed across the rear seat.  "Okay," she called.

          Opening the door, Harrison helped Paul sit, then Suzanne guided his shoulders back so he could lay on the seat while Harrison lifted his knees and arranged his legs inside.

          "I'll follow you back in the Bronco," the astrophysicist said.

          "Okay," Suzanne said, "but don't you think we should take him to a hospital?"

          Blackwood shook his head.  "It'll just create a situation we've have to cover up. If it's just some drugs, it should wear off.  He can go to Fort Streeter and see a doctor afterward."

          Suzanne didn't look convinced, but she climbed out and shut the door.  "Debi, do you—"

          "I want to ride with you," she said, nervously watching the colonel through the glass.

          "Okay," the microbiologist said.  "Let's go then."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Once they had Ironhorse back to the Cottage and safely in bed, Suzanne took a small blood sample, returning when she had the test results.

          "The boys were right.  It was some street drugs," she said.  "How's he doing?"

          "Still sleeping," Harrison said quietly from the chair he'd placed closed to the soldier's bed.  He closed the book he'd been reading.  "Did you know he has a collection of Poe?"

          Suzanne's eyes widened.  "Poe?"

          "A little light bedtime reading, I guess," Blackwood relied.

          "He'll probably wake up in eight to twelve hours.  I think we should just let him sleep."

          "I think I'll sit with him for a while longer."

          Suzanne nodded.  "When it's time for your nap, come get me.  I haven't read any Poe in ages."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          A low groan from the bed woke Suzanne.  She sat up straight, then stretched and yawned widely.

          "What happened?" the soldier mumbled.

          She smiled down at him.  "Good morning."

          Another groan.  "That's up for debate, Doctor.  What the hell happened to me?"

          "Some kids at the carnival dropped some drugs in your orange soda."

          "They did what?"

          "You heard right."

          "The little—"

          She reached out and placed a finger over his lips.  "It's already taken care of.  Debi called their mothers and reported them."

          The black eyes widened.  "She called their mothers?"

          Suzanne nodded.  "You couldn't pay me enough to be one of those boys when they got home last night."

          A lopsided grin lifted the shadows off Ironhorse's face.

          "I think she was feeling a little protective."

          "Doctor, your daughter can watch my back any day."

          Suzanne giggled.  "Please, don't tell her that.  She'll want to take you up on it." On a more serious note she added, "You gave us quite a scare.  Thank God you didn't go armed."

          "Yeah," he agreed.

          She leaned forward slightly.  "What were you seeing out there, Paul?  You looked terrified."

          "I was," he admitted.  "Thought I was back in Saigon, but the VC had all been taken over by aliens.  Did I hurt anyone?"

          Suzanne made a face and shivered.  "That'd terrify anybody.  And no, you didn't hurt anyone."

          "Thank you, Grandfather," he said softly.

          "I'd better let Blackwood know you're awake."

          Ironhorse reached out and grabbed her arm.  "Uh, can we wait on that?  My head still feels like there's an elephant in there doing a stomp dance.  If Blackwood comes in here asking me a lot of questions I really will have to shoot him."

          She grinned.  "Okay, tell you what I'll do.  I'll tell Blackwood you're still sleeping, _if_ you agree to try and get some more rest."

          "Done," he said.

          Standing, she added, "I'll be back to check on you in a few hours."

          He nodded and watched her go.  It had been too close.  He'd been too close to killing somebody, and all of it a practical joke.

          And if it had been Debi who'd drank the soda?

          He rolled his head.  It wasn't Debi.  And he hadn't hurt anyone.  This time.

          Soldiers like him weren't supposed to be wandering around corner fairs, taking care of twelve-year-olds, being normal men.

          _But_ , he admitted to himself.  _It was fun while it lasted._

 


End file.
